


Even Alphas Need a Little TLC

by halcyon1993



Series: The Kinky Adventures of a Wolf and His Boy [8]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha Derek Hale, Anal Sex, Armpit Kink, Bathing/Washing, Body Hair, Body Worship, Bottom Stiles Stilinski, Butt Plugs, Cock Worship, Come Sharing, Foreskin Play, Knotting, M/M, Making Love, Massage, Mates Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Multiple Orgasms, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Post-Coital Cuddling, Praise Kink, Riding, Scenting, Top Derek Hale
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-04
Updated: 2018-03-04
Packaged: 2019-03-27 02:34:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,911
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13871262
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/halcyon1993/pseuds/halcyon1993
Summary: Derek takes his role as alpha very seriously, working hard to take care of every member of his pack. But there are times every now and then when he needs someone to take care of him, too. Luckily, he has a mate who is all too willing to do just that.





	Even Alphas Need a Little TLC

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Vergiss_Mein_Nicht](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vergiss_Mein_Nicht/gifts).



> Proofread as of 5/4/18. Any remaining mistakes are my own.

When Derek Hale pulls his car to a stop outside of his pack house in the middle of the Beacon Hills preserve, he breathes a sigh of relief and feels immensely happy to be home. Although it has only been a few days since he left town to secure a few new alliances with some of the packs nearby, it felt like much longer and he missed his own—especially his mate.

Speaking of Stiles, his light-blue Jeep is parked out front, the only other vehicle present, letting Derek know that the younger man is home alone. He thinks he prefers it this way. It will be nice to reconnect with his betas tomorrow, of course, but after working indefatigably to prove himself trustworthy to the other alphas and then convince them that an alliance will be beneficial for all of them, spending the remainder of the evening with just Stiles for company sounds like his idea of heaven.

As Derek gets out of his Camaro, their mating bond kicks into overdrive and he feels a pull in his chest which has him moving toward the front door with surprising speed. He didn't think he could move that fast with how depleted his energy stores are, but that's just what Stiles does to him. It still amazes him whenever he is given a breath to think about it, how the spark between them hasn't diminished at all over the years. Stiles has been his mate for nearly a decade now, fulfilling the role of Pack Mom—the betas' nickname for Stiles, not his—with enthusiasm and grace, and yet, even after all that time, Derek still feels butterflies at the mere thought of him.

And he knows it's exactly the same for Stiles.

The front door is opened by his mate just as he reaches it, like Stiles was waiting for him on the other side. He probably felt the same pull as Derek.

"Hey," Stiles greets with a grin.

"Hey," Derek rasps.

Stiles' grin softens. "Long day, huh?" he asks, taking the alpha's hand and pulling him inside.

"Try long _week_. Some of the other alphas weren't having it at first."

Stiles hums and shuts the door before welcoming Derek home properly. He engages the older man in a chaste kiss and then hugs him tightly, tucking his chin over Derek's shoulder when the alpha holds him back just as fiercely. "I missed you," he whispers.

"I missed you, too," Derek whispers back.

He closes his eyes and feels bliss as his nostrils are filled with Stiles' unique, cinnamon-y scent and their bond snaps back into place. It's never the same when they are separated for any reason; it always feels strained if they spend more than a few hours apart, and that strain is only exacerbated when the distance between them is great like it was this time. To finally have their bond back as it should be, strong and pulsing…it seems to Derek like everything is right with the world again, even though nothing was really wrong before.

Too soon for Derek's liking, Stiles ends their embrace and starts pulling him in the direction of the stairs. "C'mon," Stiles says, that soft, beautiful smile still on his face, "let's get you taken care of."

"You're not busy with anything?" Derek enquires, just to be sure.

"Nope. I got everything else done earlier because I knew you'd be back tonight and I wanted to dedicate all my attention to helping you unwind. I figured you might need it."

Derek is speechless and just lets himself be shepherded up to the second floor, toward the master bedroom and on into the en suite bathroom, where the sight with which he is greeted does nothing to restore his ability to form words.

The first thing Derek sees is that the room is bathed in the warm glow of a couple dozen white candles that are carefully positioned everywhere—around the edges of the bathtub and the sink, on top of the toilet tank, and even on the shelf on the far wall that usually houses spare towels but is now otherwise empty. The next thing he notices is that the bathtub is filled with steaming water, and then, finally, there is a stool and a small table right next to the tub, on top of which is an empty jug, a bottle each of shampoo, conditioner and Derek's preferred body wash, a glass of water, and a plate laden with various desserts, all of them cut up into bitesize pieces.

It's only then that Derek realises how hungry he is, his stomach growling audibly.

Stiles laughs and steps around Derek so that they face each other. "I guess that answers my next question. Let's get you outta these clothes."

Derek still doesn't have words as Stiles reaches for the hem of his maroon henley and begins pulling it up his torso. Were it coming from anyone else, the alpha wolf in him would be bristling, his instincts telling him that they were calling his strength into question. But it's not like that with Stiles. Never with Stiles. Not one touch is filled with any negative connotation but with care and love, so Derek allows himself to be undressed and basks in the attention.

He raises his arms so that the human can strip him of his T-shirt, baring his top half, and then Stiles moves his slender fingers to the belt around Derek's waist. Derek's eyes stay on him as he undoes it, pulls it through the belt loops of his jeans and then lets it hit the tiled floor with a clatter. Next, Stiles pushes the button of his jeans through the placket and pulls the zipper down before dropping into a crouch, taking the article of clothing with him.

"Step out," the younger man instructs.

Derek uses his mate's shoulders for support as he raises first one foot and then the other so that his jeans are completely off, too. Finally, Stiles slides Derek's plain black boxer-briefs down his legs and tosses them aside with the rest of his clothes, leaving him completely naked.

He doesn't feel vulnerable at all, not even with Stiles still fully clothed, because Stiles has seen him like this a thousand times before and will a thousand times more–and vice versa. Derek expects for a moment to grow aroused, since being naked around his mate more often than not precedes sex, but that doesn't happen.

This isn't about sex, at least not yet. What this is about is Stiles showing him how much he is cherished in an entirely non-sexual way, so there burns no fire in Derek's gut. Maybe things will become heated later on, but for now, Derek feels no need to take things there and offers no protest when Stiles takes his hand again and leads him over to the bathtub.

The water is just the right side of too-hot when Derek steps into it. He sighs with pleasure as he sits down and immerses himself up to his shoulders, raising the water level to about an inch from the rim of the tub. He leans back against the side and mentally sings his own praises for buying the biggest tub he could find when the house was being rebuilt years ago, which means he is able to stretch his legs out completely without his feet leaving the water. When he is settled, he hears movement next to him and looks to his left to see Stiles sitting on the stool, staring at him amusedly.

"Comfy?" the human asks.

"Incredibly," Derek answers, his voice slightly breathy.

"Good. Now let's get that belly full."

When Stiles reaches for the plate on the table next to him, Derek raises his arms out of the water, intending to take it from him, but Stiles tsks at him.

"Ah-ah, no moving, Sourwolf. You just relax and let me take care of everything."

There is an authority to the way Stiles speaks that has Derek instantly obeying, lowering his arms again. The resulting pleased smile that curls his mate's lips fills his chest with even more warmth than the hot water, and he dutifully opens his mouth when Stiles picks up the first piece of food he had prepared and holds it in front of his lips. The square of brownie is moist and rich, but Derek would expect nothing less from something his mate has made.

He sinks a little deeper into the water so that it is just shy of his chin and accepts the second square Stiles proffers. It goes on like this for a while, with pauses in between so that Derek can clean off Stiles' fingers if the dessert he has just been fed was messy. There is a large variety of things on the plate, all of Derek's favourites—along with the brownies, Derek's stomach is soon filled with meringue, lemon squares, mini blueberry tarts and apple pies, cinnamon rolls with excessive glaze, and chocolate-covered strawberries. Derek would feel bad about eating so much unhealthy food, but he thinks he has more than earned it with how hard he had worked to form the alliances with their neighbouring packs.

"Last one," Stiles says, holding up the final chocolate-covered strawberry by the stem.

Derek bites off the good part and is slightly disappointed that there is nothing else, but his stomach is pleasantly full now and he supposes he has already indulged enough. When he has swallowed a final time, Stiles announces that it's time to move on to the next part of the evening. Derek sits forward in the tub when he is asked to and keeps facing forward when Stiles repositions himself and the table so that they are both behind him, out of sight.

"Tip your head back," the human says, running his deft fingers through Derek's dark hair.

The alpha closes his eyes and does so, humming when Stiles' short fingernails scratch against his scalp for a few seconds. One hand then cups around the top of his forehead and some of the bathwater is poured over him to wet his hair, Derek presumes using the jug. Stiles' hands leave him for a moment, and then they return to work a dollop of shampoo into his dark strands. Derek can't help but moan quietly when it turns into a sort of head massage, with Stiles' fingers working their magic for much longer than is necessary. Eventually, Stiles pours more water over Derek's head to wash out the shampoo and then repeats the process with conditioner, which he leaves in for a couple of minutes before washing it out as well.

"There. All silky-smooth," Stiles comments, giving Derek's scalp one last good scratch before retreating.

Derek hears movement behind him and opens his eyes just as the younger man comes back around to his left side and kneels on the floor next to the bathtub. He holds a washcloth and the bottle of body wash.

Derek presumes that his mate is going to give the items to him so that he can clean the long car ride from his body, but that doesn't happen. Instead, Stiles drapes the washcloth over the rim of the tub, wets his hands and rubs some of the body wash between them, getting a lather going. "Alrighty then," he grins, looking at Derek expectantly.

The werewolf maintains his silence as he is washed from head to toe by his mate. It's not as long a process as he thought it would be—this isn't the first time Stiles has insisted on doing this, but most of those other times the human's touches lingered as he took gleeful advantage all of the skin presented to him. More often than not it ended in mutual orgasms and a need to wash up all over again, but that isn't the case this time. There is still affection in everything Stiles does, but tonight his touches are all methodical and efficient, getting every part of Derek's body cleaned up quickly.

Minutes later, when everything is done, Stiles sets aside the washcloth and stands up. "You just relax for a bit, okay? I've gotta set something up in the bedroom."

"Set what up?" Derek asks, his curiosity piqued.

"You'll have to wait and see."

Stiles winks on his way out of the bathroom, leaving Derek by himself in the warm, soapy water. It's pleasant, but he can't relax like Stiles instructed him to because he keeps trying to guess what the younger man has planned for him next. He sits in the bath for what feels like a very long time before Stiles returns, a smirk on his lips like he knows exactly what Derek has been doing. He probably does, Derek muses. Stiles has always been good at reading him.

The human approaches the bathtub and pulls out the plug to get the water to drain. He takes Derek's hands to help him stand, even though he doesn't really need it, and then, when Derek's feet are on the bathmat, he swaddles him in a huge fluffy towel that is already warm. It must have been on the radiator in the bedroom all this time.

Derek keeps up his docility and allows Stiles to dry him off with gentle pats and rubs of the towel. He bows his head so that the younger man has better access to his hair, and then Stiles slinks low to the floor again so that he can dry Derek's feet. The sight of his mate down there does things to Derek now that he is clean and fed and his energy levels have gone back up somewhat, and the evidence isn't missed by Stiles' keen eyes.

"Patience, Sourwolf," he grins, brushing the back of his hand against the alpha's half-hard cock on his way back up.

The fleeting touch only makes Derek's burgeoning arousal worse. But even though Stiles doesn't take mercy on him then and there, Derek infers from his words that there _is_ something more than this coming up and knows that, whatever it is, the wait will be more than worth it.

Stiles blows out all of the candles in the bathroom and guides Derek to the door with a hand on his arm. Derek isn't sure what he was expecting Stiles to have set up in the bedroom, but it wasn't this. There are even more candles placed all around—Derek wonders how many his mate bought while he was away, because they didn't have nearly this many before—and starting from the bathroom doorway and going all the way over to the king-size bed is a trail of red rose petals. There are more scattered across the bedspread, and on top of the sheets another white towel is spread out. Derek has his suspicions as to what this is all for, and those suspicions are confirmed when he spots the bottle of massage oil on the nightstand.

"Lie down on your front," Stiles says, releasing him and stepping back to give him some space.

When Derek is in position, his face turned to the left so that he can breathe and his arms lying parallel to the rest of him, Stiles picks up the massage oil and joins him on the bed. He chooses to straddle Derek's bare ass, putting some delicious pressure on the alpha's cock where it's trapped against his abs. Stiles chuckles, and then Derek hears the cap of the oil being popped open. He feels a generous amount of the thick fluid being drizzled over him, forming a large zigzag pattern from his shoulder blades to the small of his back.

The massage starts out soft, with Stiles applying almost no pressure at all, just sweeping his hands across Derek's smooth, tanned skin. But after a while, Stiles works his hands harder into the muscles of Derek's back, seeking out any knots of tension and loosening them with expert movements. It isn't the first time Stiles has given him a massage, but Derek is still surprised by how good his mate is at it. He is soon a boneless puddle, lying beneath Stiles with nothing but white noise filling his mind. His brain is offline. He can't think at all, can only feel, like his entire existence is narrowed down to the places Stiles touches him.

He loses track of time and simply drifts.

* * *

Stiles wears a self-satisfied smile when he looks at the side of Derek's face and sees the state he is in. He looks completely out of it, and Stiles feels proud of himself for causing that to happen. He keeps working at every knot he can find in Derek's back to keep him like that and admires the vision that the alpha makes like this. The glow of the candles, coupled with the shine of the massage oil, gives Derek's skin an almost otherworldly luminance, like he is a god. The title seems fitting to Stiles, because Derek has always been like a god to him.

From the very beginning of their relationship he wanted to worship the werewolf's entire being, and that desire only got stronger as the years passed and he saw more and more of who Derek is at his core. His physical beauty is something else—that much was evident right from the moment they met—but even that pales in comparison to who Derek is as a person.

His strongest attributes, like his bravery, selflessness and the huge, bruised heart he kept hidden in the beginning.

His flaws, like his occasional bullheadedness and, thanks to his bruised heart, his tendency to immediately distrust those with whom he is unfamiliar.

His insecurities, like his fear of not being good enough.

All of it adds up to someone that Stiles is sure he will love and treasure for the rest of his life. If, when he was sixteen, someone told him he would be this saccharine one day, he would have laughed in their face—and then probably hidden away in a corner so that he could cry in peace because he believed something like that was unattainable for him. But then Derek happened, and now Stiles couldn't be happier. Even now, when they are both comfortable and secure in their relationship, Stiles knows it's important for both of them to make sure the other is constantly reminded of their love. That's why he had planned this whole evening.

Eventually, Stiles can't find any more knots in Derek's back and focuses his efforts elsewhere. He moves off to Derek's side and shuffles toward the end of the bed so that he is positioned next to the lower half of the alpha's body. Derek doesn't rouse at all, so Stiles allows himself to be greedy and drink in the sight of him for a few seconds. The alpha's legs are long, muscular and dusted with fine black hairs all over, clear evidence of his strength like the rest of him. Stiles runs his eyes up the length of them until reaches one of the main things that has wreaked havoc on his sanity ever since he first saw it.

Derek's ass is a thing of incomparable beauty. It's firm, tight and perky, the hairs from his legs continuing across the shapely globes of flesh, which are so alluring that Stiles only lasts a paltry few seconds before he has to get his hands on them.

He applies more massage oil to his palms and cups both cheeks, giving them a squeeze to feel their musculature. The touch is what brings Derek back out of his haze, a soft groan leaving his parted lips and the eye not pressed into the towel beneath him cracking open to stare up at Stiles. The younger man barely notices, though, because he is too deep in his admiration for Derek's ass.

He squeezes both cheeks again and then starts rubbing the massage oil into them, the circular motions of his hands parting them repeatedly. Stiles keeps this up for a while and then uses his left hand to keep them parted so that he can slide his right index finger down the middle, grazing it over Derek's hole. The alpha moans again and parts his legs to give Stiles easier access, which he takes. He runs his finger a couple of times from the top of Derek's crack to his perineum before focusing his ministrations on his asshole. He swirls the pad of his finger against it and nearly drools when the furled muscle twitches and starts to open up.

Stiles is well-acquainted with Derek's hole, knows just how it tastes and how it feels around his fingers when he has grown adventurous during a blowjob many times in the past. He wants to lean down and taste it now, and he almost does. But he resists. It would be good for Derek as well, but Stiles reminds himself that tonight isn't about his own wants but about taking care of his mate.

With this thought, he reluctantly moves on to rub over the muscles of Derek's legs, admiring their strength.

There is still some tension lingering there, brought out again by Stiles playing with his asshole. The younger man presumes its origin is the long car journey back home that Derek made earlier. While Derek would have just been sitting in the driver's seat, Stiles knows how much of a toll keeping the pedals held down or constantly switching between them can take on one's legs and ankles, especially long-distance. It had shocked him when he first got his license and started driving regularly, and he'd had to basically limp everywhere until he got used to it. He takes extra care with Derek's legs and knows his efforts aren't for naught when the werewolf once again starts to melt against the towel keeping the bedsheets safe from the oil.

When Stiles finishes with Derek's calves, he pauses and requests that his mate turn over onto his front. His reasoning is that this position will make it easier for him to massage Derek's feet, and that is true, but there is also the added benefit of letting him see Derek's gorgeous face in its entirety. The alpha's cheeks are flushed red beneath his beard and his eyes are hooded, both clear signs of his arousal—if the thick eight-inch cock pointing straight up the air wasn't a good enough indication.

"God, you're so beautiful," he breathes, moving to the very end of the bed so that he can get the full picture.

"Stiles…" Derek croaks. His dick twitches, a bead of pre-come running down the shaft.

"We'll get there, Sourwolf," Stiles reassures, stroking a soothing hand down Derek's leg.

He keeps going until he reaches his feet, at which point he makes himself do what he told himself he was going to do. He takes one of them between his hands and rubs at the sole with his thumbs, using every trick he has learned from the previous times he has done this to make Derek's eyelids flutter with pleasure.

Stiles does one foot and then the other, holding it in his lap until he thinks Derek is satisfied. Only then does he allow the mood in the room to shift.

He pulls his T-shirt over his head and tosses it aside before sitting back so that he can undo and take off his chinos and underwear. His breath hitches when he rocks in place a bit, one of the other things he had done to prepare for this evening making its presence known again.

The plug in his ass is small enough that Stiles can have it in and go about his day without really noticing it, but it's big enough that he can definitely feel it when he is sitting like he is now. He freezes for a moment with his chinos halfway down his legs, until the shock of the plug hitting his prostate wears off and he is able to reclaim control of his body.

Derek is watching him heatedly, so Stiles grins at him and completes the process of getting naked as well, his chinos and underwear joining his T-shirt on the floor. He is just as hard as Derek, his cock waving a little ridiculously in the air as he moves up the werewolf's body and straddles his thighs, just low enough for their erections not to touch. He knows Derek can take his weight easily, so he doesn't worry as he leans down and kisses him.

It's a brief battle for dominance, their tongues warring for a few seconds before Derek concedes and lets Stiles take charge. Stiles kisses him for all he is worth, his hands placed on Derek's broad chest to keep himself steady. He feels Derek's hands come to rest on his legs, just above his bent knees, and he smiles into the kiss until he runs out of breath and has to pull away to replenish the oxygen in his lungs.

There is a long string of spit that connects their mouths, so Stiles swipes his tongue out across his bottom lip to break it and sits up again, enjoying the secondhand taste of strawberries and chocolate he got from Derek's mouth. It's strong, but beneath it there is still the pure taste of his mate that never changes, that he can never get enough of.

He stares into Derek's eyes and doesn't miss the thin ring of red around his pupils, which is getting thicker as times ticks on. When the beautiful hazel colour of Derek's irises has been entirely taken over by blazing red, Stiles kisses him again and moves his hands across his chest.

He grazes Derek's pebbled nipples, causing the alpha to whine into his mouth and dig his nails into Stiles' thighs, their bluntness quickly turning sharp. Stiles breaks away from his mate's mouth again and looks down to find that the werewolf's claws have made an appearance, Derek's control over his inner wolf slipping. It only makes Stiles even more turned on.

"You're amazing," he says reverently, running his eyes over every part of his mate he can see. "So fucking amazing. I still can't believe you're mine."

Derek breathes heavily but doesn't say anything, which is perfect for Stiles because he suddenly has a lot he needs to get out. It pours from him like a waterfall, and he doesn't care if it even makes sense; he just needs to get it out, to make sure Derek knows every little thing he is feeling.

"You're such a good alpha," he says, looking unflinchingly to Derek's eyes. "You're so good and kind and strong. You take such good care of everyone, and even though you don't like to show it, you always put others first. It's one of the things I admire most about you, even if it can get frustrating at times seeing you not look after yourself. But I guess that's what I'm here for, right? I love that, too, how you're comfortable enough to let me take care of you like you're always taking care of me." Stiles picks up one of Derek's hands and kisses each of his knuckles before holding it flat against his chest, letting Derek not only hear the unfaltering rhythm of his heartbeat but feel it as well.

"I'm so fucking lucky to be your mate. And that's without all of _this_ ," Stiles continues, gesturing with his other hand toward Derek's body. "It's no lie when I say you're the most gorgeous person I've ever seen. I love every single part of your body. I could probably go on and on about it forever, until you'd get so sick and embarrassed of me talking that you'd have to shut me up. Let's start here."

Stiles releases Derek's hand so that he has both of his own free, dances his fingers across the alpha's chest and giggles when Derek puffs it out, making the muscles seem even larger. He fits his palms over both pectorals, cupping them and threading his fingers through the fine dark hairs that cover the tanned skin. "It makes an amazing pillow, and I love that you let your chest hair grow out for me. You were hot before, obviously, but…I don't know. There's just something about you with a hairy chest that does it for me."

Next, Stiles fits is hands over Derek's cheeks, his thumbs stroking across the sensitive skin beneath his blood-red eyes. "Your eyes are stunning, both pairs. Your adorably small ears and your bunny teeth…and your beard, too. I love feeling it scraping against me, love feeling it the next day in places no one can see beneath my clothes."

Stiles pokes Derek playfully on the tip of his nose before grabbing his hands and positioning them above his head. "These, too," he says, his fingers gliding down the length of Derek's muscular arms until he reaches his armpits. He scratches his nails through the dark hairs. "Never gave much thought to armpits before you came along and I wanted to stick my face in them all the time, which threw me for a loop at first, let me tell you."

He laughs and leans down to do just that, inhaling deeply and delighting in the scent that fills his nose. It's covered slightly by the body wash from earlier, but like the taste of the alpha's mouth, underneath the body wash is the scent of _Derek_ , a musky, woodsy thing that stokes the fire in Stiles' gut. "So good…"

When Stiles sits up again, their hard cocks finally brush together and Derek immediately bucks his hips up beneath him, nearly displacing him. Stiles just manages to keep himself upright and, when he is stable, he rolls his hips down against Derek's length.

He is amazed by how easy the slide of skin against skin already is, thanks in large part to the amount of pre-come Derek leaks nearly continuously whenever he is aroused. Stiles wants to have his lips wrapped around the alpha's cock, to taste the salty bitterness of Derek's pre-come, a taste he is basically addicted to. He shuffles backward, pushes Derek's legs apart so that he can better fit between them and wraps a hand around the older man's cock.

"Don't even get me started on _this_ ," Stiles says, unable to tear his gaze from the thick length as he strokes it, smearing pre-come all over it to make the whole thing glisten in the candlelight. "There's no better feeling than having this deep inside me, your knot tying us together, making me complete. You fill me up so well, like we were literally made for each other. I honestly believe we were."

Stiles slowly jacks Derek's cock a few more times and is almost hypnotised by how soft skin moves over the hardness underneath, how the flushed head is hidden by the foreskin on every upstroke. He has always been obsessed with his mate's cock, probably to a degree that a lot of people would call unhealthy, but he doesn't give a single shit about what they would think.

Stiles himself is circumcised, and he never really had a problem with that. It was just the way his body was, so there was no peace to be made. Sure, he had suffered from the usual insecurities about size he thinks every guy has when they're in their teenage years, but other than that he had never given it much thought, not even when he realised he wasn't as straight as he'd always thought.

But then he and Derek got naked with each other for the first time and he saw that the man was huge and uncut, causing all of that to change. Stiles was still happy with himself, but because he didn't have any foreskin, he quickly developed a fascination with Derek's that persists to this day. In fact, Stiles thinks it's safe to say that his fascination has only increased over time.

Using both hands now, Stiles gently pulls up from the base of Derek's cock until as much excess skin as possible is gathered over the head. It's soft, wrinkled and wet with pre-come, an unbelievably hot sight, so Stiles fulfils his earlier want and brings his mouth to it.

Mindful of his teeth, he clamps his lips around Derek's foreskin and sucks on it, plays with it using the tip of his tongue. The taste of his mate's pre-come is just as good as ever, especially when Stiles relaxes his lips a little and forces his tongue inside Derek's foreskin to probe at the slit, getting the taste straight from the source. He maintains eye contact with Derek while he does all of this, watching his reaction as he slides his hand down the length of the alpha's cock and brings his mouth with it, taking Derek nearly to the root. He holds himself there for a few moments, the head against the back of his throat, until he runs out of air and has to draw back again.

The expression on Derek's face makes it clear that he is getting impatient, so Stiles gives it all he has got in order to make this the best blowjob Derek has ever received.

He dives back on the alpha's dick with enthusiasm, keeping his hand against his stretched lips so that he can stroke over the few inches he can't fit in his mouth without it going in his throat. That wouldn't really be an issue since his gag reflex isn't a thing anymore, but this is more comfortable for him, which means he can make this better for Derek. He doesn't have to stop to take a breather this way, instead getting just enough air through his nose to keep him going every time he pulls off most of the way. Derek's hands tangle in his hair, not guiding him or pulling him down, but just holding on and letting Stiles go at his own speed. The human would smile were his mouth not full.

Eventually, Stiles hears the quiet grunts and growling sounds Derek makes, which experience has taught him means that the werewolf is close to coming. He redoubles his efforts and uses his other hand to fondle Derek's heavy balls, the fine hairs tickling his palm as he rolls and tugs lightly on them.

It takes another few seconds for Derek to have his first orgasm of the night. He goes tense all over and then thrusts up into the heat of Stiles' mouth as it hits, his cock pulsing as he shoots jet after jet of thick, creamy jizz onto Stiles' tongue. There is so much that the younger man has to swallow a couple of times to prevent any of it from leaking past his lips.

When Derek stops coming, Stiles finally lets the alpha's cock slip out of his mouth so that he can crawl up his body and kiss him. He forces Derek's mouth open with his tongue and pushes some of the come inside, making Derek taste himself. They kiss for a while, sharing the werewolf's load back and forth until it's all gone. Only then does Stiles break the kiss, both of them breathing heavily.

"That was amazing," Derek says, his voice hoarse.

"Oh, it's not over yet, Sourwolf," Stiles promises, grinning down at him.

"It's not?"

"Nope. But you're gonna have to get nice and hard again for me. Think you manage that?"

Derek nods jerkily, which Stiles knew he would. One of the perks of being a werewolf, especially an alpha, is that, along with the fast healing, Derek has an incredibly short refractory period. Stiles gives him a couple of minutes before he reaches behind himself and grasps Derek's cock, stroking it again to coax it more quickly back to hardness. It doesn't take long, and then Stiles releases it to take hold of the plug that is buried in his hole.

"Got myself ready for you before you got home," Stiles explains, although he thinks that Derek has already guessed what is going on.

With a wince he pulls out the butt plug, tosses it aside and holds himself up over the tip of Derek's cock, poised to sink down onto it. He doesn't make either of them wait, especially not himself. He has been looking forward to being filled up by his mate's wonderful length all day, and it doesn't disappoint. It fills him up to the brim, is the perfect length and girth to stretch him out just to the point where it would become painful without a lot of preparation. With what Stiles has planned, though, it's a good thing that he _had_ prepped himself a lot that afternoon.

"Gonna ride you," he tells Derek, wigging in place on his lap. "Take your knot."

Derek's eyes go wide, and Stiles smirks. It isn't often that they do this. It's even more intimate and amazing when they do, but it's uncomfortable at first, stretching Stiles to his limit, and they don't always have the time to wait for the knot to go down. But they have all the time in the world now, and Stiles wants to feel that intimacy after their time apart—and he thinks that Derek _needs_ to feel it.

After getting accustomed to being filled up again, Stiles raises himself nearly all the way off of Derek's cock before sinking back down. "God, how do you always feel so good?" he gasps, fucking himself on Derek's cock again and again. He moves as fast as his legs can manage, until his thighs are sore and cramping and he has to push through it to keep riding his mate.

Derek must be able to sense that he is tiring, because in the next second he feels the alpha's large hands helping to support him. They hold him beneath his thighs and assist him in raising himself up. "Such a good alpha," Stiles repeats. "So good…"

The mated pair continues like this for several minutes, until Stiles' legs simply can't carry him any further. He nearly collapses on Derek's chest, but he catches himself and holds himself up with his hands pressed into the towel on either side of Derek's head.

"Fuck me," he orders, scraping his teeth over the alpha's prickly chin.

Derek does. He plants his feet on the mattress and bucks his hips up quickly, fucking Stiles as hard as he can in this position. Stiles just holds on for the ride, babbling more nonsense into Derek's ear that makes less and less sense as he is overwhelmed by the pleasure he feels. Derek's cock hits his prostate on every other thrust, and it gets to be so much after a while that he can't talk anymore. His mouth hangs open to let out moan after moan, and the sounds only get louder when Derek latches onto his neck and bites and sucks on the sensitive skin, marking him up.

His cock is trapped between their stomachs, the glans rubbing back and forth across the ridges of Derek's abs every time Derek fucks up into him. It's euphoric, really, all of those feelings combined with the heat and smell of the alpha beneath him.

Sooner than he would like, he realises that it takes more effort for Derek to sheath himself completely in his ass. Stiles can feel himself being stretched open further as the knot grows, and although he doesn't want this to end yet, his body moves on its own, pushing back on the knot and begging it to get inside and lock them together.

It only takes another minute for this to happen. Derek thrusts up one last time and pulls Stiles down concurrently, ensuring that the sizeable ball of flesh pushes past the resistance of Stiles' hole and carves a space for itself in his insides. It hurts at first, like it always does, but Stiles breathes through it and then it's just pleasurable. The knot is a constant pressure on his prostate, twitching every time Derek pulses into him, and that is enough to have him coming as well, spraying both of their stomachs.

Stiles doesn't come down from his high for a long time. He lies on top of Derek and floats in his post-orgasmic haze until it dissipates enough for him to be able to form thoughts again.

When he opens his eyes and checks in with his body, he realises that Derek must have rearranged them while he was out. They are now both of their sides and Derek is pressed up against his back, his strong arms wrapped around him—and how Derek achieved that without the knot leaving Stiles' ass, Stiles doesn't know. He doesn't think about it and just snuggles back into his mate's warmth, continuing the enjoy the afterglow of their lovemaking, the fullness he feels with Derek's knot keeping them connected and his insides heavy with so much of the alpha's thick seed that is stomach is slightly distended because of it.

"So…was that okay?" he asks the older man.

"It was perfect," Derek whispers into Stiles' neck. "Thank you."

Stiles smiles tiredly to himself. "Kinda made your bath pointless, but you're welcome. Love you, Sourwolf."

"I love you, too."

**Author's Note:**

> Well, this makes a nice change in this series, wouldn't you say? :) After seven PWPs filled with kinky stuff, I felt it was only right to break things up a bit with something a little tamer, fluffier and sweeter. I hope everyone who read this enjoyed it, and if you missed the filth, then never fear! I still have several prompts to fill and then even more ideas of my own that should satiate your disgusting appetites... ;) Stay tuned for more very soon.
> 
> A big thank you to [Vergiss_Mein_Nicht](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Vergiss_Mein_Nicht/pseuds/Vergiss_Mein_Nicht) for this prompt. I hope it was everything you wanted. If anyone else has suggestions for other PWPs they would like to see me tackle, feel free to leave them in a comment down below and, as long as they don't feature something I don't like, I'll try to make them happen. _All_ suggestions are welcome, as long as they're Sterek M/M. I'm really in the mood to write smut right now, so get it while the getting's good! ;)
> 
> **P.S. Don't forget to subscribe to me to be notified when my future fics go live, which will all be Sterek. I've got some good stuff planned. And feel free to check out my past fics if you haven't already. They're good, too.**


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